


A State of Mind

by SnowyCrocus



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Mental Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyCrocus/pseuds/SnowyCrocus
Summary: AU in which Agdar and Idunn safely return from their journey at sea. Elsa remains locked away - and what does such captivity do to a person after more than two decades?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For some context: A few of us on tumblr had been discussing what would have happened if Agdar and Idunn had returned safely, in which case Elsa would remain locked away. Others said options were 1:become a villain or 2: suicide. I brought up option 3: psychological instability. I had said then " the depression, anxiety and hopelessness over the years may have driven her kinda crazy. Thinking she's broken, she may become…well, broken. Which would then in turn lead to further loss of control and possible death by her own hand- or captivity by her parents (perhaps the cuffs would come into place)."
> 
> This is the result.

"See you in two weeks!"

Wrapping my arms around my parents in a firm hug, I tried to exude nothing but excitement for their upcoming trip. It was hard to mask the trepidation I was actually feeling inside. Travel by sea, especially at this time of year, was often fraught with danger. I'd heard the stories, or at least read about them, anyway. But my parents assured me that they'd taken every precaution to get back home to Elsa and I safely. They would have the best ship and the very best crew. _They'll be fine, Anna,_ I tried to reassure myself.

What _did_ give me a small burst of hope, though, was seeing Elsa at the top of the steps to see my parents off. At 18 years old, Elsa looked every bit the perfect young woman I imagined her to be. _She's an adult now,_ I reminded myself. How could adult Elsa be any less perfect than the 8 year-old girl I remembered?

Seeing her there, dropping into a flawless curtsey, filled me with optimism. Maybe, without my parents around, I could see Elsa more. Maybe they were the ones keeping her locked away. Maybe I could see her – maybe we could spend time together, to keep each other company – while our parents were gone. Maybe.

At the top of the stairs with Mama and Papa, Elsa looked nervous.

"Do you have to go?" I heard her ask, nearly pleading.

_Yes!_ I thought. _Of course they have to go! Elsa, now you and I can see each other while they're away!_

But despite my hopes during those two weeks, I didn't see Elsa. She stayed locked away in her room as usual, no matter how much I cajoled her to come out.

She stayed in there, as she always did, not seeing a soul until my parents returned two weeks later and came to see her in her bedroom as they always did.

* * *

As the years passed by, I saw Elsa less and less. Weekly dinners became monthly, then bi-monthly, and then more like biannually.

I had always longed to see my sister. Like _literally_ \- just to _see_ her would be nice. But even though I wished to see her so badly, seeing her outside of her room after all these years later brought out more shock and concern in me than it did excitement. It became almost _wrong_ to see her outside in the halls – as if she didn't belong there anymore. And after 12, 14, and then 16 years hiding away, well- maybe she didn't.

I heard her though, sometimes. Just a few doors down the hall from me, I often heard noises. Crying, high-pitched whines, sometimes moans. Crackling noises became pretty common but I didn't know what that sound was coming from. Pleading, shouting when my parents visited. But even more often: pure, untouched silence like freshly- fallen snow.

* * *

When I was still a child and Elsa had been navigating her teenage years from behind her bedroom door, every now and then a suitor would come to court my sister. I rarely saw my sister with them- they would occasionally come to dinner (well, the suitor always came and my sister often did not), or take a walk alone through the gardens – so I can't say much as to what their interactions were like. But I always hoped the men that came to court Elsa liked their women quiet and unseen, like my sister usually was.

Most of them seemed nice enough. Some were downright sweet. I didn't know why, but nothing ever came of these meetings. No proposals, no future plans to continue a courtship. Neither party made a move. As the princes and kings left, their faces were always dark with disappointment. When Elsa turned 21, she saw her very last suitor. No one else came to see her after that. Whether that was by the hand of my father or a foreign king I do not know.

As for me, I dreamed of a handsome prince swooping in to steal me away from my somber home full of secrets and whispers. I would have attended every meal with any suitor. I would have told him I loved him. I would have held his hand and smiled at him and shown him the latest dances I had learned as he gazed into my eyes and pressed warm, soft lips over my own.

But I was never given that opportunity.

"We have to find the right person for you, Anna," my father explained to me when I brought up the topic one afternoon. "I only want the best for my princess."

If only I had known then what I do now- that my father didn't attempt to find a match for me until he was sure whether he would be looking for a husband for his daughter, the princess – or for me as his daughter, the queen.

* * *

On my 21st birthday, the castle had a big celebration. I was a woman now, and even though I wasn't the eldest- even though I wasn't the heir- coming of age was a big deal. We had a nice party for my parents and I and the staff I was friendly with, and I spent most of the day outside with my parents who had taken off for the special occasion. Swimming, horseback riding, tree-climbing- I did it all. Who knew when I'd get to do it again?

"It's not every day that a princess comes of age," Gerda told me happily when I hugged her as strongly as I could in thanks for the rich chocolate cake she had made.

_But Elsa – the_ heir _– came of age 3 years ago,_ I longed to say. _It's been 16 years that she's been shut away. Why didn't we have a party for_ her, _then_?

I just so happened to see Elsa a few weeks later, standing in the middle of the hallway halfway between her bedroom and Papa's study.

_What is she doing out?!_ I wondered, before I tried to shake the thought away, terrible as it was.

Elsa herself didn't seem to know what she was doing out, either. She seemed unsure - hesitant and aimless. She stood there silently, simply staring at nothing down the hall and wringing her gloved fingers. I wondered how long she had been just standing there.

"Elsa?" I said, partly in surprise and partly to bring her out of her reverie.

I was afraid I would spook her, but it was a moment before she turned her head slowly to see me standing a ways away beside her. Her gaze darted up to my face before falling down to my shoes.

"Anna," she said to them. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders up near her ears and I noticed her hands shook by her sides. She was as jittery as a rabbit.

"….are you okay?" I asked her. "Were you on your way to visit Papa?"

Elsa didn't answer me, her gaze falling just past my face before she glanced to her side and remained staring at the wall there. Her gloved hands migrated from in front of her to tightly clenched under her armpits.

"Anna, you…you're a woman now," she struggled to say, her words light and airy yet somehow heavy as stone. I realized that for some reason she wouldn't (or couldn't?) look me in the eyes anymore.

_So she_ did _know my birthday passed._ I wasn't sure, anymore, if Elsa was able to measure the passage of time in that room of hers. What do the days, or years, for that matter, signify anymore if every day is the same?

"I…I hope you are…happy, Anna," Elsa said, her words coming slowly, like she had a mouthful of peanut butter, her voice raspy with disuse. "I wish…" she trailed off, looking somewhere else, _anywhere else_ but me, and took a few steps backwards towards her bedroom.

I couldn't put my finger on it, at the time, but besides acting just plain _odd_ , something about Elsa was…off.

I remembered how, when we were kids, Elsa would always be watching me. She watched me to make sure I was safe, she watched me to make sure I was happy. She watched me to keep me out of trouble, and I knew that she was always watching me then because she loved me. Having her gaze sweep past me and not return felt like a swift kick to my heart.

"I…I'm s-sorry I…" she didn't (or, once again, couldn't?) finish her sentence, trembling and suddenly staggering back to the sanctuary of her bedroom once more, leaving me to feel even more lost than Elsa had looked, standing so out of place out in the world of the castle.

* * *

I think it was on Elsa's 26th birthday that I finally admitted to myself that something was wrong with my sister. Something wrong enough that it kept her in her bedroom for 18 years.

It had been 18 years now since Elsa abandoned me and the world around her for the confines of her bedroom.

I counted every birthday of my sister's carefully, measuring the years of her life in years that she had spent behind that stupid white door.

She really never came out anymore. I caught glimpses of light blue eyes and glances of white-blonde hair through a cracked doorway when someone brought food or when our parents came to visit, which happened less and less frequently.

On Elsa's 26th birthday, I peered from afar to watch as my parents attempted to coax Elsa to come out of her room, her door cracked open enough to let their words be exchanged.

Elsa's gloved hand gripped the knob tightly, ready to slam the door closed again at a moment's notice.

"We love you," Mama said, fingers flexing as she restrained herself from reaching out towards her eldest daughter. "Please, Elsa, just for today."

I saw a shake of a head before the door closed once more. "I…c-can't."

That night, having had a slice of Elsa's birthday cake in silence with my parents, I took a slice up to Elsa's door.

"Elsa?" I called out, giving my usual knock. It felt strange – I had given up knocking on this door years ago.

"Happy birthday. I- I brought you some cake." I was just about to place the plate on the floor when the door opened suddenly, startling me so much the cake nearly flew from my hands when I jumped.

And there was Elsa – right in front of me. She was dressed the same as always, in one of her day dresses with her hair pulled back in a bun. But her eyes were hollow and vacant. She actually met my eyes for a second this time, but her gaze was so empty that she didn't even seem like the same person anymore. I couldn't put my finger on what had changed in them- they were still the same, icy blue color. _Ah, that's it,_ I realized as my heart fell with a thud in chest. There was no life left in them.

"Elsa, you-" _opened your door,_ I wanted to say but didn't. "Happy birthday," I said instead, holding out the cake. My fingers just passing the entryway of her door, I felt an icy coolness that seemed to divide the air between her room and the outside. Strange. I tried to smile warmly at her. I blinked back the tears that sprung to my eyes thinking of birthday celebrations when we were kids. Opening presents together, since we shared all of our toys. Smooshing birthday cake into each other's' faces. I was always _so_ excited when it was my birthday and for a few short months I was only _two_ years younger than Elsa and not _three_.

"Thank you," Elsa said so softly it was a whisper. Her hollow eyes dropped down to the floor again.

"Here," I said, holding out the cake to her. "Super chocolate-y, your favorite!" _At least it used to be. Do you still like chocolate, Elsa?_

She glanced quickly at the cake in my hands before shaking her head. She gestured with her chin towards the floor.

I stood there, confused. "Huh?"

Elsa took a step back, cringing into herself. "I- I can't," she mouthed, anguished, trying to make words but no sound came out. She pointed one gloved finger down towards the floor.

It took me a minute to puzzle out what she wanted. "Oh!" I placed the plate on the floor, giving it a small shove past the doorway.

I watched, the chocolate cake I had just eaten coming back up into my throat as my sister bent down to the plate and touched it hesitantly with a gloved finger before whisking it up and closing the door.

* * *

On Elsa's 30th birthday, it was not Elsa that received my parents' visit, but me.

There had been no celebration, nothing unique to mark the time that had passed to make my sister now in the third decade of her life. _Twenty-two years behind the door,_ I couldn't help counting.

My parents were now showing signs of their old age. While they already had Elsa as heir, it was time that my parents had begun to make arrangements for after their death for a smooth transition to a new ruler.

My parents were always tired, now. Ours was not a happy, energetic household. There were secrets behind walls and young girls grown to women behind doors. Father had developed a chronic cough that interrupted many conversations. Mother sometimes found it difficult to get out of bed in the morning, often taking naps throughout the day to build up her strength.

"Anna," my father started, clearing his throat and giving me a somber look as he sat on one of the padded chairs in my bedroom. "We have something we need to tell you." My heart sank as I sunk down onto my bed across from him and my mother.

Papa sighed heavily. "We had hoped it wouldn't come to this," he started, nervously. Papa was never nervous. "Not that- not that we don't trust you, it's got nothing to do with _you_ , you see, but-"

"Agdar." My mother cut him off from his anxious rambling, laying a gentle hand on his arm. She gazed at him with warm but pleading eyes. She looked weary- so, so weary. A single tear slid down her face. "Just tell her."

"A-alright," my father began again. "Anna, you…" he took a deep breath. "As of this morning, you are now officially _Crown Princess_ of Arendelle. You are- you are now the heir."

_What!?_

"What!? But – but what about Elsa?" I felt my limbs go all shaky and my heart started beating so hard it hurt. "Papa- what? How? _Why!?"_

"Anna, you may not know everything that is going on, but I am sure you understand that your sister cannot rule Arendelle when we are gone, as she is."

"But what do you mean, _as she is!_ How _is_ she Papa? You both _still_ won't tell me anything that's going on!" I was sure to direct some of my glare at my mother as well. I was so sick of the secrets, of the lies. "If I'm going to be queen I at the very least deserve to know _why!"_

As my parents hung their heads, looking defeated, another thought occurred to me. "What about Elsa?" I asked. "Have you told her? Does she know? And on her birthday, no less!"

"Yes, she does know," Mama said. "She said-" her voice cracked. "She said you'll make the finest, _warmest_ ruler that Arendelle has ever seen." Her voice broke on the last words and she began to cry silently.

I remained blind to her show of emotion, enraged at all the secrecy. "But you're not telling me _why!_ I mean sure, it would be difficult to rule the kingdom from her bedroom, but _why?_ _Why_ did you make me heir? _Why_ doesn't Elsa ever come out anymore? Why did she leave the – the _world_ in the _first_ place?!"

"It's difficult to explain, Anna," my father said. I could see that despite his emotion earlier, he was starting to close up again at my prodding.

My blood was boiling. "So difficult that after _twenty-two years_ you still can't even _begin_ to tell me?!" I was shaking now.

"There are multiple reasons, Anna," my father said tiredly. There was no use in raising his voice against me this time. He knew I was right. _I_ knew I was right. "And they've changed over time. The reason was different when you both were younger. But Anna, Elsa is no longer heir because- well, because she is sick."

"What- what do you mean, _sick?_ And what was the reason, then, when we were younger?"

"Anna," my mother cut in, reaching out to grab my clenched fist. She pulled my fingers away and stroked her thumb over the back of my hand as she spoke. "There are some things you don't need to know right now."

"That you _shouldn't_ know," my father added.

"What do you mean, that I _shouldn't_ know?! If I'm going to be the damn ruler of this kingdom I think I ought to know!" I snatched my hand out of Mama's, rising from the bed.

"No, Anna!" My father shouted back at me. "There are some things you are better off not knowing."

It didn't occur to me until after they had left my room, the implications of their words still not sinking in, that it must've been precisely that it _was_ Elsa's birthday that caused them to change the heirship. They had been waiting for Elsa to turn thirty, for some reason I could not fathom, in the dark as I was. As if her birthday had been some kind of…deadline.


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, it hadn't mattered that Mama and Papa wouldn't tell me what was wrong with Elsa.

All my life, with Elsa behind her door, I had heard the rumors.

"Sorcery," whispered one guard to another, off-duty.

"Ice cold," breathed a handmaid to another while doing the wash.

"Crazy." That last one had only been said more recently, perhaps the past few years.

I never listened, at least not with any seriousness. I myself had an active imagination and liked to believe in magic and fairytales to make life more bearable. Why shouldn't the servants do the same?

Soon after being made heir, I was headed down the hall towards the stairwell when I heard it.

"ANNA!" Elsa's voice carried more strongly than I had heard it in years from behind her door a few feet away. I realized I couldn't remember the last time I had actually heard Elsa's voice.

"Elsa?" I called, running to her door. "Elsa, are you alright?"

"Anna, no! Please! I-I'm sorry!" Her weak voice quavered. She sounded so anguished.

"Elsa! I'm right here!" I said. She sounded like she was crying. Something was wrong. I grabbed the handle and turned, never _actually_ expecting it to open.

But it did.

"Elsa!" I cried, stumbling into her bedroom.

And there, huddled in the middle of her bedroom floor, squatted my sister. Her hands were clawed and buried in her hair, thick and tangled. She was trembling like a leaf and rocking.

"Anna, no! No!" She wept. Her eyes gushed tears but never left a particular spot on the floor, as if she were seeing something there. _Someone._ I felt sick.

Shivering violently, the freezing temperature in the room suddenly hit me and it registered that my sister was huddled in nothing more than a thin, sleeveless nightshift. It was mid-afternoon.

"Elsa?" I whispered in shock.

She heard me, this time, and glanced up. Meeting my eyes for once, she suddenly stood upon seeing me but backed away, cringing into herself like I was going to attack her.

"Anna." Her voice was raw, her eyes wild. "I'm sorry, so, so sorry – I never meant to kill you Anna, I _swear_ , I just-"

I had known something about Elsa was off for a while now. I had heard her yelling things, sometimes, from her bedroom. When she would still occasionally surface from her room I would see her trembling, or shaking her head and muttering to herself. I had tried to deny it, chalk it up to loneliness and simple idiosyncrasies.

But I couldn't pretend this was just a simple eccentricity anymore. Elsa wasn't talking to herself to break the monotony of her isolation.

"I'm so _sorry_ Anna," Elsa said again as I stood there simply watching her in shock. But she wasn't saying it to me anymore- she was back to the empty spot on the floor to speak to this _Anna_ that only she could see.

I raced to get to my washroom in time, heaving.

* * *

When I was 27 years old, I was married to Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.

Apparently the kingdom was very much displeased by our matrimony- after all, a _crown princess_ shouldn't have to settle for a man _thirteenth_ in line for the throne.

But what the people didn't know was that this prince was the only one who would have me as his bride. And it had taken _years_ of correspondence to come to an agreement on my dowry.

After all, who would want to marry into a family with a madwoman?

He may not have been anyone's first choice for my husband, but Hans was a good man.

He immediately went to my father's side to learn his ways of ruling and the laws that governed our land. When my father was ailing, it was Hans who led the council and our people.

He charmed my mother with his kind words, helping her with her duties as he could and making sure she was always comfortable in her old age.

And to me, Hans was a warm embrace, a listening ear and, well…a release that my teenage self had been searching for for about fifteen years. I craved his touch like I could never have imagined. He made me feel so _good_ \- in every sense of the word. He was a balm to my wounds, the solution to the loneliness and heartbreak that I had faced almost my whole life.

He took my mind off of Elsa. Elsa, who didn't look anyone in the eyes anymore. Elsa, whose hands shook constantly, covered in gloves. Elsa, who wouldn't say a word for months on end and then suddenly began crying out for days as she fought the visions in her mind.

And Hans was _so_ good to my poor sister.

The first time he met her, he kept his distance.

"I just want her to get used to my presence," he explained. "I don't want to scare her."

He asked me questions about Elsa, questions that I couldn't answer.

"No one will tell me anything," I would vent to him. "As if I'm still a _child._ "

He learned that my sister still liked chocolates, and was sure to bring some to her weekly. He didn't cringe at her empty gaze past him, didn't mind when she ran away, didn't laugh when she started talking to herself about things no one could decipher.

Sometimes Hans would visit her without me. It's funny, how things can change. Growing up, I would've killed to see my sister, to be in the same room as her, to talk to her. Now? Now there's some days that just thinking of Elsa makes me nervous. I don't know what happened to my sister. I don't know how she became so sick. She scares me, sometimes. After all, she seems to think I'm dead.

Seeing her as she is makes me choke on the bile rising in my throat. I look into her empty eyes and see Mama's- Mama whose heart is broken over her broken baby girl.

Sometimes, I catch Elsa in a lucid moment. When she stares at me like a frightened, cowering animal about to be hunted.

The only times that I know Elsa is back in her head is when she tells me to stay away.

We were so lucky, I told myself, to have Hans. He brought light to our dark and hopeless world.

* * *

Within a year of my marriage to Hans, my father died, and my mother not long after.

"She died of a broken heart," those closest to my mother said.

 _Broken over my father or over Elsa?_ I wanted to ask but never did.

Our coronation as King and Queen came so quickly that I didn't even have time to properly grieve. It was a somber event, celebrating our reign while mourning my parents at the same time.

Hans looked so handsome as King. I don't think I had ever seen him look prouder than the day my father's crown was placed on his head.

"I am sorry that your mother is gone, Anna," Hans told me that first night as we climbed into bed together for the first time as King and Queen. "But that tiara has never been placed on a more beautiful woman than you."

I thought of the tiara and thought of my mother wearing it. I thought of how, for most of my life, I had pictured Elsa wearing the tiara next. The light blue stones would match perfectly with her coloring and her eyes.

But my sister hadn't come to the coronation. I don't even know if she knew there was one.

Suddenly I bolted up out of bed. "Elsa!"

Hans looked at me like I had just cussed. "What about her?"

In all of the tumult over my parent's death and preparation for our coronation, I had nearly forgotten about my dear sister, locked away in her bedroom as always. I looked at Hans with wide eyes. "Does she know? Did someone tell her Mama and Papa died?!"

Hans snorted. "Of course. I had Gerda deliver the news that same night."

"Is she okay!? How did she take it?" I would've visited Elsa right then if it weren't so late. She must be devastated. My parents were Elsa's whole life, all she had over known. Her only interaction with the outside world.

Hans rolled his eyes. "As well as someone mentally deranged can take it, I suppose. Which is to say that it probably didn't even register with her."

Despite his words perhaps being true, I didn't like the way that Hans was belittling my sister. I couldn't remember him acting this way towards her before.

"I'll check on her in the morning," I said to him, pulling the sheets over my shoulders. "I hope she's alright."

Hans looked at me like _I_ was the crazy one, sneering. "Don't bother. And she's not alright, Anna. She never was and never will be."

* * *

"Gerda!" I yelled, running to catch up to our head housekeeper the next morning. Despite her advanced age, Gerda was still a force to be reckoned with, overseeing the staff like it was all she had been put on this earth to do.

"Your majesty," she said, bowing.

"Please, Gerda, don't call me that," I said, biting back tears. Your majesty would always be my mother and father. Your majesty should have been Elsa.

I asked Gerda how Elsa had taken the news of my parents' deaths. "Did she…understand?" I questioned. "Is she alright?"

Gerda held me in an appraising look. "I didn't tell your sister, dear." Her eyes grew wide. "His majesty, your husband, said you had already broken the news to her and that you wouldn't wish to speak of it."

My head spun and my legs suddenly struggled to support my weight. Gerda clasped my arm to keep me upright with her strong grip.

He had lied to me. Hans, my own husband, had lied to me.

Just like everyone else. He was no different.

* * *

I spent an hour silently fuming before I went to see Elsa.

It wouldn't do for me to visit her upset. The last thing my sister needed was for me to yell at her. She had enough plaguing her fragile mind. And besides - I was all she had left.

"Elsa?" I called as I knocked on her door to let her know I was coming in. We had had to remove the lock on her door after she had locked it for days on end one time.

Walking in to my sister's bedroom, I found her in a heap on the sitting area looking out the window. I fought back the urge to look out there with her- to see the small sliver of the world that was all my sister knew for 23 years.

At 31 years old now, Elsa, as Hans liked to say with a smile, was like a houseplant. She needed to be watered and fed, but otherwise stayed in her room and didn't bother anyone. I was enraged when he made the comparison – I didn't talk to him for two days until he apologized - but had to admit that he was right.

I visited my sister as often as I could. Or as often as I could bear. It was _so_ hard, sometimes, seeing her like that. Sometimes when I came in she'd be pacing in circles, wearing a ring into the rug as she cradled her head in her hands. Sometimes she was huddled in a ball, crying under her desk. She seemed to like that spot there, confined and hidden. And sometimes she was sitting silently, seeming to be thinking, or reading a book. Reading seemed to calm her; give her something to focus on.

It physically hurt me to think back on the days of our childhood. When Elsa and I were inseparable. When we would play outside in the snow, making snowmen. When we would hide in suits of armor and pop out to scare the guards. When we would ride our tandem bike around the halls.

But those girls were lost, now. Lost to whatever secrets were hidden in Elsa's mind.

"Elsa?" I called again softly, not wanting to startle her. She turned around from the window, meeting my eyes for a heartbeat before dropping her gaze.

"Anna," Elsa responded, sadly. "Can you- can you ask Mama and Papa to visit?" My heart broke. _I can't do this._

Elsa continued on, speaking more than I had heard of her in a long time. She seemed more lucid than I had seen her in a while, as well.

"I know-" she twiddled her fingers, then spread out her hands and gazed at her gloved palms. "–that I don't deserve to see them. Why should they see me after I _killed you?_ " Her voice became more like a groan and I bit my tongue to hold back my scream at her confession.

I took a deep breath, trying to quell my anger at my sister. My sister, who had no idea her parents were gone and who thought she was a murderer.

"But it's been so long since they came and only Hans came to visit. I think he did? Anna, I can't remember. Did they come, Anna? Did I tell them I'm sorry because I'm _so sorry_ , Anna…" Her tirade broke off in a tearful moan.

" _Stop, Elsa!"_ Elsa shrunk back into the wall further. This was too difficult. I was already stressed out. My parents just died, I had just started accepting all the responsibilities that came with being queen- I couldn't deal with my sister right now, too. This was all too much. My hands starting shaking.

"Elsa," I started, feeling the tears forming behind my eyes. "Mama…Mama and Papa are dead."

I didn't know if it was just my nerves but the room suddenly grew _way_ colder.

"No." Elsa's voice was back to being small and broken. "No, Anna, _no_ " she repeated again, bringing her trembling hands up to cover her face, her fingers tangling in her hair. She bent forward, bringing herself into a ball, her whole body shaking.

"Elsa-" I reached out to her, to comfort her, but despite not looking at me she somehow knew I was coming and jerked away.

" _I'm sorry,"_ she cried. "I'm so _sorry,_ Anna." Tears were streaming down her face. I started shivering. "I didn't mean to kill them too, Anna. I never wanted to hurt anybody," Elsa wailed.

I had met the end of my rope. This was too much, too much for me. Where was Hans? I shouldn't have to deal with this alone.

"Stop it, Elsa!" I yelled. "You didn't kill me, you didn't kill anyone! Get that into your head, alright?!"

Elsa shrunk back further as if she were trying to become part of the wall itself. "Mama, Papa, _I'm sorry_!" she cried. "I hurt _everyone!_ Everyone is dead! Everyone is dead because of _me_ I did this and I _can't stop it_ I'm a _monster_ …" her breathing grew ragged as she groaned, crying and rocking. She covered her ears with her gloved hands.

How the hell was I supposed to comfort her? _How the hell was I supposed to comfort my sister when_ I _needed comfort myself?_ The world was falling apart around me. I lost my sister, my parents, and now my husband had lied to me – had lied to me just like everyone else had.

"STOP IT ELSA!" I screamed. I couldn't take it anymore. I had never felt so alone in my life. "YOU DIDN'T KILL _ANYONE_!" Elsa's body jolted at my scream as if she had been struck, but her cries didn't cease.

"GODAMMIT ELSA! _WHY_ DO YOU THINK YOU KILLED US!? _WHY!?"_ I myself was crying and shaking now, all my emotion and energy spent as I sunk down to my knees, head in my hands.

Something cracked under the weight of my body as I dropped to the ground. I uncovered my eyes, glancing around uneasily as I fought back a violent shiver.

The floor was coated in ice. A thick, uneven layer with cracks and ridges throughout radiated from where Elsa sat huddled and shaking. The window behind her had completely frosted over, and the walls around us were quickly becoming encrusted in icy vines creeping up from the ground. A gust of wind whipped my hair into my eyes (I had long since abandoned my childhood braids), and as I pushed it back to gaze around me I had more difficulty doing so due to the heavily-falling snow that would soon bury me up to my knees.

My breath left me entirely. _Is this…?_ _"…Elsa?"_

My tears were still wet on my cheeks, leaving ice-cold trails on my skin. But when I looked at my sister in disbelief over the environment around us, she looked up as well, and I saw that the tears on her face were frozen like tiny glittering diamonds.

* * *

"YOU KNEW?!"

I didn't know which was worse; that Hans rolled his eyes when I asked if he knew about my sister's secret or that he smirked at the fact that I had no clue.

"How _dare_ you not tell me! You're my husband! And she's my _sister!_ I should _know_ these things!"

I was fuming. I was more than that. I felt like I was going to explode- my anger, fury, and white-hot _resentment_ flowing through my veins.

I just wanted to cry. My whole life, _gone_ over this secret. My sister didn't say a word. My parents kept me in the dark. And now Hans, my husband, had hid this from me as well. My despair was drowning me. I felt like I was choking.

"Anna," Hans had explained, as if I were a child. "It was safer for you to not know. Your parents and I had always agreed on that."

"How did ruining my _life_ keep me safe?" I seethed. "How did locking Elsa up keep us _safe?"_

My husband rolled his eyes once again at my question. It was strange, I thought. Before my parents died I don't think he had ever rolled his eyes at me even once.

"Do you know what people do to those with sorcery, Anna?" He asked. "Do you know what they do to witches? What they do to their _families?"_ He shook his head, narrowing his eyes. "Had word gotten out, Elsa would be _lucky_ to be trapped in her room for the rest of her life. And you, your family- well, what would stop the people from declaring that you were all cursed as well?"

"Elsa's not cursed!" I cried. "She wasn't always like this! We used to be normal, to have fun as sisters do. We were _inseperable,_ Hans. Elsa's not cursed. Her powers, this- this could be a gift!"

"Look at her, Anna," Hans sneered, recalling the times that we had caught Elsa muttering to herself, hands covering her ears and tangled in her hair. He reminded me of the times when Elsa screamed for days when she thought she had murdered me and my parents. He retold the story of the time we found Elsa huddled under her desk, hands stuffed into so many pairs of gloves that the seams started to rip on the outer pairs.

"Does that look like a _gift_ to you?"

* * *

I didn't sleep with Hans that night. I couldn't face him, couldn't face him knowing the truth all the while when I was kept in the dark. I couldn't walk through the hallway where my parents' portraits were hung - those _traitors,_ those…those…. _childhood killers!_

I wanted to rip my hair out. I returned to my bedroom and threw the pillows at the walls as hard as I could. I pummeled my mattress until my wrists were sore and throbbing. I screamed so loudly I was shocked that the guards down the hall didn't come knock down the door. I ripped the love letter Hans had written me for my birthday to shreds, I threw the handkerchief Mama had embroidered for me in the fire.

 _Now who's the crazy one?_ I wanted to ask them, those that had lied to me. _Who is crazy now? Me, or Elsa?_

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur; I was dazed, time ebbing and flowing with my consciousness. _Is this how Elsa feels?_

Elsa.

My poor sister. Now I knew why she shut herself away, why she isolated herself for _twenty-three_ goddamn years. I felt so raw from the realization; like my insides were scraped and bleeding. Mama and Papa had shut her away, cut off all of her contact with the entire rest of the world. _From me._ And as a result, it had driven her mad. Stuck looking at the same four walls for over two decades, her window the only sliver of life outside her bedroom door. She had lost her grip on reality – and who could blame her, when reality had forsaken her?

"This all could have been _AVOIDED!"_ I raged, throwing myself into another fit of anger. They wanted to protect Elsa, Hans had told me. They had wanted to protect me. What kind of fucking _protection_ was this?! What kind of _protection_ destroys your life, locks you up to the point that you go _insane!?_

My poor sister. My poor sister who now thinks she killed my parents, when in truth, _they_ killed _her._

* * *

I didn't know who I married, anymore.

Hans had always been my savior, my salvation. He had been all I had; he brought the light into my life after so many long, dark years alone.

But now? Now everything seemed to be falling apart.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" I ran to Gerda, sobbing, after I had fought with Hans about the revelation of Elsa's abilities. "All these _years?_ When I didn't know _why_?"

"Your majesty," she had said, tears and a pitying look in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, so _sorry_ , my dear, my dear Anna." She wiped the tears from my cheeks. "But your parents, god rest their souls, forbade me from breathing a word to you."

"And after they died?" I protested. "Why not then?" I was afraid to hear the answer.

"His Majesty, King Hans, forbade me as well," Gerda responded. My knees buckled. "He told us if we were to reveal such a secret to you we would end up…" she trailed off, blushing.

"What, Gerda?" I pressed. "That you would end up like _what?"_

Gerda looked away as she answered, embarrassed. "…like princess Elsa."

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Hans didn't try to include me in the affairs of the kingdom anymore. He didn't explain what he was doing, or why.

He didn't look at me with love in his eyes anymore, with that crinkle he got between his brows. He didn't smile at me like he was happy to see me. He didn't wait for me at meals, didn't hold my hand as we walked, didn't rest his hand on my lower back like he used to.

Hans had always been my world, once we met and married. He had been my savior, my love, my hope- my best friend.

I had always felt so alone. My parents, much as they tried, were too busy with their responsibilities for the kingdom and with whatever had been going on with Elsa (which I now knew). And Elsa, of course, had barely acknowledged me after she had been locked away at 8 years old.

But when Hans came into my life it was like I had found the light once again. I had found hope; a reason to keep going, to keep _living._

And now that light was snuffed out.

Now, I was stuck with two parents buried deep in a grave, a husband who looked at me like I was nothing but a naïve child, and a sister who was so disturbed that she thought I was dead. I was, essentially, alone.

* * *

After I had broken the news of our parents' deaths to Elsa, my sister's mental condition deteriorated even further.

Whatever meager hold she had had on her powers – enough to hide them from me for twenty-two years – had seemed to crumble with my confession regarding our parents. There was a persistent chill suffusing the residential wing that no amount of fires in the hearths seemed to improve. Harsh gusts of wind were constantly whining in her bedroom and ice began to seep out from the gap of her doorway like a spreading disease.

The first few days after I told Elsa, she alternated sobbing with snowing for hours on end, her voice raw but matching in pitch with the gusts of wind swirling inside.

"I can't take this anymore," Hans cried angrily one evening, standing up from the desk that had been passed down from king to king throughout all generations of Arendelle monarchy. "She's gotten too unstable, and that curse of hers is getting dangerous and out of hand."

"No, Hans!" I cried, getting up from my book to chase after him. I grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"No, _please!_ " He shook me off, glaring. "Leave her be. Please. She's just hurting."

"She's not hurting, Anna," he growled. "She's _insane."_

"She doesn't know how to deal with the loss," I fought back, tears in my eyes. "Let me go to her, I'll keep her quiet, I swear."

"Fine," Hans relented, looking cross and annoyed. "See to it that you do. Or else I'll have her taken care of myself."

"What do you mean, _taken care of?"_ His tone scared me.

"I have my ways," he said.

I went to Elsa frequently those days to attempt to calm her down.

It was getting difficult, though. I couldn't stay with her long; the raging storm inside her bedroom had me shivering in minutes and fearing frostbite not much longer after that.

"Elsa!" I would call to her, reaching out to stroke her trembling form. "Stop this, Elsa! You're okay, you didn't hurt anyone!"

But she always shied away from me. That is, if she even seemed to notice me there at all. She'd often be crouched on the floor, or on her knees, her gloved hands covering her ears as she shook her head to rid herself of the voices calling her from within.

Once, I had found her with her gloves off. I could hardly believe it- I didn't think they had been off in _years._ But after getting over my shock at seeing the bare skin of her hands, I noticed the red streaks of blood along both arms where her fingernails had left scratch marks so deep in her skin that she bled.

* * *

I knew my meager pleas to my husband could only last for so long, however.

"That's it," Hans clenched his jaw, throwing back the covers and storming out of bed after being woken up by Elsa for the third time that week. Once it had been from her yelling, but this time it was because it had begun to snow all the way in our bedroom, piled up in clumps on the bedspread. "I've had enough."

"Hans, _no!"_ I leapt out to follow him, brushing the sleep out of my eyes, but he shoved me back hard enough to bruise and pushed the door behind him, slamming it in my face.

That was the problem with having a husband when you were queen, you see- despite my power as a ruler of Arendelle, I wasn't _the_ ruler- my husband, the King, would always outrank me. It was always _his_ word against _mine_.

And that was why I was left struggling against the guards that Hans had ordered to restrain me outside of our bedroom. That was why I fought so hard my wrists chafed from their strong grip. That was why I screamed so long and hard my throat was raw.

That was why I had no option but to watch as my sister was led away from her bedroom by a retinue of armed guards, looking forlorn and guilty but cooperative, as if she thought she deserved such punishment. That was why I saw that she had been chained - heavy-looking cuffs that encompassed her hands and wrists entirely. That was why I watched as she was pulled along, stumbling, to the corridor that led to one place only:

The dungeons.

* * *

For the first two weeks I tried desperately to get Hans to change his mind.

"Give me more time with her," I pleaded. "I'll make her understand. Just please, _please_ , don't lock her up in there." I felt like I had betrayed my sister. Elsa was the only family I had left, no matter how damaged she was- and I had failed her.

But Hans' word as King was law- and he wouldn't budge. "There's no hope for her, Anna," he brushed me off angrily, tiredly. "This is to keep us all safe."

"But there _is_ hope!" I insisted. "She just needs some love. Someone to care for her after so many years. Human, social interaction – that's what she needs!"

Hans sneered at me, a look I was becoming more familiar with by the day. "Hope is what drove your sister _mad_ , Anna. Hope is all she ever had to live for. And when she finally realized there was no hope anymore, she became the monster she is today."

* * *

It became a sort of unspoken agreement between me and my husband- Hans would overlook my visits to Elsa if I didn't speak of her to him, as if she weren't even in the castle anymore.

I'd go as often as I could, but it was hard- the guards were under orders that no one but the King was to visit her, and I had to learn the hard way which guards would permit me to visit despite their orders, and I would have to be out by the time their shift ended.

I'd carefully pick my way down the steep stone steps leading down to the dungeons, my arms loaded with stacks of books. It was the only thing I could give Elsa to help keep her occupied- and with her hands covered wrist-deep in those wretched cuffs, she had no choice but to turn the pages with her feet when I wasn't there to read to her. But she was always so _happy,_ so _grateful_ \- I'm not sure if it was seeing me or seeing me with my arms laden with _books_ that did it, but it was the only time my sister's eyes lit up anymore- the only time I saw her look somewhat like her former self.

Despite the cuffs that she wore, after she had been moved to the dungeons, the ice had seemed to constantly _leak_ out of Elsa- her powers, though weakened from the constraints, were not withheld entirely by the metal.

I wasn't quite sure _how_ Elsa had managed to hide the ice and snow from me and nearly _everyone_ for so long, for now it was her eternal companion. There was a constant scrim of ice on the floor and vines of it snaking up the walls. About two weeks into her confinement, Elsa had had a magical outburst that decimated one of the stone walls of her cell, even cracking the glass window and leaving shards of glass that cut her bare feet and bled.

Hans had ordered a new cell built for her after that- but this time, with stronger, reinforced walls and only a porthole to see outside with glass so thick it was blurry and distorted.

Seeing the damage her powers had wrought to her first stronghold, I had to admit that Hans perhaps had been right- the bedroom in the residency wing wouldn't be safe for Elsa _or_ for any of us- her powers were too dangerous.

I had very nearly wanted to strike myself for even harboring such an awful thought- how _dare_ I think my sister, with such a magical burden, ought to be _contained_ like an animal? How could I actually agree with my parents and Hans on such a thing? But those times when I left Elsa's cell, shivering violently and rubbing feeling back into my fingertips, I had to admit they had a point.

If only there had been some other way.

But despite the danger, I remained by Elsa's side. Because of the handcuffs, the guards had to feed Elsa- Hans had long ago decreed that the cuffs were _never_ to come off my sister's hands without his express permission. They had her sip water from a cup, fed her bread and cheese, and occasionally some fish or fruit if she had a guard on duty who remembered her as a carefree, happy child. Whenever I could manage to sneak some, I'd bring her chocolate- rich, luscious truffles or small bites of cake or pastries I snuck into my napkin at dinner. Chocolate still remained her favorite- that was a part of Elsa her condition could never take away. Our love for chocolate was still something that brought us together. Sitting on the hard bench with her in her cell, our eyes closed in rapture over the decadent silken taste coating our tongues, it was like we had retuned back to childhood, sneaking sweets into the pantry and savoring them while no one was looking.

The familiarity of it seemed to calm her- enough so that she would sit peacefully, leaning against me, so that I could wash her hair- still as long and beautiful as ever, perhaps looking even lighter in color now- without her freezing the water. She would hum as I moved my fingers through the strands, untangling them. I cherished those moments so much; the world fell away around us, the cold, hard brick walls of her cell disappearing until it was simply a moment of two sisters relaxing and caring for each other.

Besides looking out for Elsa's rare bits of enjoyment, I tried my best to keep tabs on who cared for her- and those who didn't, despite their responsibilities. I discovered one heartless guard that had been sliding my sister's tray of food into her cell, _just_ out of reach to tempt and tease her.

Some days, I couldn't stay with Elsa for long- the room grew too cold, the ice spiked dangerously, or Elsa herself wasn't in a state of mind to see me. Some days she'd rain down apologies for her supposed 'murderous transgressions,' others she ignored me, slumped against the wall, while at other times she yelled, cried or lashed out as if she didn't even recognize me, her chains clinking as she lunged. Those days hurt the most, and it took me days to work up the courage again to return to her.

But "she's always calmer after you visit," the nicer guards would tell me. "That's what we see a glimpse of the young woman she used to be."

Gerda, god bless her, was my only pillar of support those days. Elsa and I were like daughters to her, especially after our parents had died- and now one of her daughters she was forbidden to see.

"How is she?!" Gerda would ask me hungrily, desperate for word on Elsa and her wellbeing. "Is she alright? They're treating her well, despite her captivity, are they not?"

Her eyes were anxious- for knowledge, possibly, but most likely for reassurance that her precious girl, driven mad behind walls, was faring well despite the odds.

Unable to fully care for my sister in the capacity I wished, the least I could do was soothe Gerda's fears.

"She's doing well," I life, a practiced smile playing upon my lips. "She's"- _chained to the wall_ \- "comfortable," and" _–they're not feeding her enough- "_ and she loves the chocolates you gave me for her; she says thank you." Gerda's brow relaxed, her shoulders easing and breath escaping in a relieved sigh. It scared me how easily the lies came.

Over time Elsa seemed to settle in to her life down below, peppered with my visits. She grew quiet and withdrawn, though she still suffered episodes of visions, and ice storms raged in her cell and soul.

Me, I never came to terms with what life had wrought upon us. To think that this was the life my sister and I lived now, so different from the happy, carefree life we had known and expected as innocent children. What would my parents, god rest their souls, think? Did they watch us from above? Did they see their eldest, chained and contained, ranting and cold, desperate for companionship? Did they see me, their youngest, now turn hardened and bitter, stuck in a loveless marriage and desperate for love?

For I _was_ desperate. My sister may have been alone in the dungeons and her mind, but I was alone as well in the world with no one to turn to. So desperate, in fact, that I still sought bodily release with Hans. His hands along my bare back, fingers grasping my hips, teeth raking across my lips hungrily, a forceful fuck in the dark of night- I craved touch, the be _wanted, needed_ – to escape this life that I was stuck in.

I was thirty when I learned I was carrying Hans' and my child.

* * *

My pregnancy was both a blessing and a curse

While since Elsa's imprisonment Hans had grown to scorn my very presence, suddenly I was a delicate flower and my husband became a doting gentleman, catering to my every whim and leaving me wanting for nothing. He tenderly massaged my sore back and caressed my tired and swollen feet, called for tea when I fell ill in the mornings, and wouldn't let me lift a finger. He became once more the man I had first fallen in love with and married.

I should have pushed him away, knowing the wolf in sheep's clothing that lie inside. But I was lonely, and hurting, and scared of this thing growing inside of me- scared of the world this life growing in me would be brought into – so I accepted his care and ministrations, savoring the feeling of being loved for the time I knew would come when it disappeared once more.

The curse, however, was that I could no longer visit my sister.

"These secret visits can't go on anymore, Anna," Hans lectured me immediately after finding out I was with child. "I _allowed_ it before, but you can't be selfish anymore. You will _not_ put my child's life in danger."

_Our_ child _,_ I bit back in my head, not _my,_ but I fell silent, and nodded, because he was right. I couldn't risk one of Elsa's magical outbursts, couldn't chance slipping on her ice or getting stuck by a sharp stalagmite. I longed to see my sister, but Hans promised me he would see to it that she was well cared for in my absence. He had lied before, I know – but my hands were tied as much as Elsa's.

My pregnancy brought pleasure back into the household, something that hadn't been felt in the castle for ages. A baby would mean hope, would mean joy – and we all eagerly awaited the birth of my child.

That winter, on a dreadfully cold and weary day, rain pounding down on the roof and windows, our son was born. With a shock of blonde hair nearly white and startlingly blue eyes, he had the staff whispering over his appearance. I loved him all the more for his familiar looks, and he captured everyone's heart – the future king of Arendelle.

* * *

He was a lovely child, our son. Not too fussy, he slept easily, fed well, and, after only a few short months, was full of smiles and laughter. He once more brought light into my life and even Hans was better – he wasn't as quick to scold me and he seemed to take his role as father very seriously.

Likewise, I was eager to return to my role as a sister. I hadn't seen Elsa in over nine months, and I hoped that she was alright in my absence. I had written her letters, so she would know why I had suddenly left her. I was afraid she would react as she did when our parents passed away, thinking I had gone down that same path. I had been afraid of what may have happened to her down there, and my heart had ached every day in fear of the unknown. I had worried if she was being fed, if someone brought her new books. I worried if she was seeing things again, and if the ice grew thicker along the walls of her cell.

Nearly running down the dungeon steps in my haste to see my sister, I stumbled and fell when I saw her, my heart falling to my knees as I shook with rage.

Hans had lied. Again.

Elsa lay on the small cot in her cell, her arms with the ever-present manacles clasped around her thin frame. I had to watch for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed; otherwise I would've thought her dead.

She was so thin it broke my heart. How often had someone actually fed her?

I rushed into her cell, not even giving thought to the potential danger as I gathered her slight form into my arms.

"Elsa?" She didn't stir, so I gave her a small shake, desperate. "Elsa!"

She stirred, blinking her eyes open slowly, taking some time for her gaze to find and meet mine.

"An-Anna?" The relief and love in her eyes melted my heart. She started to cry softly, tears slowly leaking as she shuddered with her silent cry. "You came back."

"Oh, Elsa," I sighed, stroking her hair as I held her to me. "I'm so sorry, Elsa. I'm so sorry." Her hair was tangled in knots from the lack of care and it seemed even lighter than I remembered. I cupped her cheek with a palm, my breath catching as my fingers grazed over an old, faded bruise on her cheek. "I'll never let you be treated this way again."

* * *

As soon as we were alone together in our bedroom that night, I punched Hans.

He never saw it coming. It was a good one too – the buildup of all my rage and agony over these past few years, my disdain for him slowly growing like a tumor. Over how he treated me, over how self-absorbed he had become, and over how he treated Elsa.

Unfortunately, my husband wasn't one to simply take a hit.

"What the _fuck_ , Anna!" He cried, stumbling back, one hand pressed over his bleeding and probably broken nose.

I never saw his strike coming, either. _CRACK!_ I staggered backwards, whimpering and feeling like my cheek bones had just shattered. "What's wrong with you, Anna?!" Hans shouted. "Is this the kind of marriage you want our son to see?"

I didn't take his bait. "You _lied,_ Hans," I seethed. "You haven't looked out for Elsa at all." My rage returned, white-hot and blinding so that I couldn't even register my smarting cheek anymore. "She's practically _dead_ , Hans. Have they even fed her at all? Helped her to wash? And why the _fuck_ does she have _bruises?!_ Is your idea of 'looking out for her' letting your men _hit_ her?!" I caught my breath. "You know, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. What's so wrong with beating your prisoner when you're already hitting your wife?!"

"Don't you _dare,_ Anna!" Hans raged at me. How _dare_ you accuse me – you don't understand anything. And if you'll remember, it was _you_ who struck me _first!_ " He stalked towards me. "What you fail to realize, Anna, is how _dangerous_ Elsa is."

Hans' green eyes gleamed emerald. "Elsa was getting out of control." He dropped his eyes, as if remembering something painful. "Her ice storms were becoming more frequent. A flying icicle nearly took a guard's eye out." He stood straighter, fixing me with an accusatory glare. "It was getting too dangerous for the men to enter her cell, Anna. We had no _choice_ – we figured out that if she's weak, it weakens her powers. If her body's weak enough she doesn't seem to have the energy to make ice. It's better for her this way."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Better for _her?_ More like better for _you."_ I blinked back the tears forming my eyes over what Hans had done to my sister. "She's _dying_ , Hans. _Weakening_ her? You're _starving_ her. You said you would take _care_ of her for me."

Hans grinned at me, baring his teeth. "And I did."

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I visited Elsa every day, nursing her back to health. I fed her all the sweets I could find in the kitchens, I washed and combed her hair and rubbed salve on the wounds I didn't want to think about. But no matter what I did, Elsa stayed quiet. She didn't show signs of seeing visions anymore, didn't have fits of ice, didn't apologize for killing anyone. She worried me, but she seemed calm and in a better condition, so I was relieved. She would sit with me as I read to her, resting her head on my shoulder – her version of a hug while her hands were chained.

My son steadily grew, becoming a happy, babbling baby and eventually toddler that continued to bring life and joy to our bleak household. I longed for the day when he would grow into an intelligent, gracious, caring young prince – I vowed to myself I wouldn't allow him to become a power-hungry devil like his father. I loved my son more than anything in this world. His features, a striking reflection of his aunt that he would never know, reminded me of the cheerful little girl that could've been, now locked away in the dungeons below.

It was perhaps a month after Elsa's full recovery when a guard ran out to me while I played with my son in the snow. That was when I was happiest – throwing snowballs, making snow angels – like I used to do with my sister many memories ago.

"Your majesty!" He cried. "Come quickly!" I left my son in his nurse's care and followed the guard down into the dungeons, my heart beating faster and my limbs growing colder with each step, though I couldn't be sure if it were from the actual temperature or my trepidation. I rushed into Elsa's cell, expecting to see it entirely covered in ice and snow. But it wasn't. Not a single snowflake. I ran to my sister's side, confused. She lay curled in a ball in the corner.

"Elsa?" I asked. I turned to the guard, confused. "What's going o-" But then I saw it. I hadn't caught it at first in the dim light. But now I couldn't unsee it.

A line of blood, trailing across the middle of the cell, ending in a pool by Elsa. Under Elsa.

"Elsa!?" I grabbed her shoulders, turning her around to face me. She blinked her eyes slowly, her gaze finally finding mine.

"Anna?" She asked sleepily. I whirled to the guard.

"What _happened_!?" Which one of you _hurt_ her!?"

"None of us, Your Majesty," he answered frantically. "Clearly she did this to herself."

"That's not possible!" I yelled, rounding on him. "She's chained up, she can't even use her hands, how could you accuse-" but then I stopped. Because a glimmer had caught my eye. And that glimmer was sparkling, like a crystal, like a diamond, like – like ice.

A thin, fine point, tapered like a needle on the end, growing wider along the base which I could see. Protruding from my sister's chest, blood dripping down her front.

"Elsa!" I screamed, dropping to my knees. I gathered her back into my arms. "Elsa, no, no! Please!" I felt frozen, my heart aching like the icicle was embedded in my chest and not hers. "Elsa, no!" I brought her head to my chest, my tears dripping into her hair. She was so cold.

"I'm sorry Anna," Elsa said. Her eyes dripped tears as well, for once not freezing on her cheeks. She looked directly into my eyes, her gaze sorrowful but more lucid than I had seen her in forever. "I love you Anna. And-" she coughed wetly, blood filling her lungs and spotting up onto the floor. "-And I always wanted to build a snowman with you."

Her eyes closed, her breath rattling as she took her last breath gathered in my arms. The icicle melted, dripping down her chest, the cell growing warmer as her powers died with her. I stayed there, sobbing, cradling my sister – my sister, who was so loved yet also feared by those who loved her most – my parents. My sister, who was kept locked away and eventually kept _herself_ locked away only for the protection of others. My sister, who had grown isolated and lonely, and eventually unstable and confused due to her confinement. My poor sister, who had _endured_ her whole life, eventually here in this cold and dark dungeon cell of a hell hole for so long.

I had to be dragged away hours later, they told me. I don't remember. I do know that my husband never even came to see me that night.

All I know of that night is that I was awoken to a light tapping at my door. I blinked wearily, unsure if I was even in the land of the living or still asleep. The knob turned, and my son came padding in, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Mama?" He asked. He turned his gaze to the window, and I did the same. Snow had begun to fall again – big, fat clumps of snowflakes twirling lazily in the moonlight. It was beautiful.

My son reached for my hand, his little fingers wrapped in mine, soft and warm.

"Do you want to build a snowman?"

* * *


End file.
